


The Penalty for Theft

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amputation, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gore, M/M, Mindfuck, Rape, Raped with a severed body part, Torture, blood everywhere, so much gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23749747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The penalty for stealing the lord's property is death. Since the thief won't be making any further use of his body, Lord Warden takes possession of it. If the thief is technically still alive, that's not his concern.
Relationships: Lord/Peasant Caught Stealing from Him, OMC/OMC
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55
Collections: Anonymous, What Fen Do (Instead of Going Outside)





	The Penalty for Theft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormyDaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyDaze/gifts).



> **Please read the tags.**

The man was dragged before him in chains. The guards dropped him and he slumped to the ground.

"We caught him stealing melons, my lord," the guard captain said. "He had a whole wheelbarrow of them."

"Did he." Lord Warden peered down at the peasant. "Can't really claim it was all to feed your starving family, then."

The peasant ground his face into the floor, babbling some sort of explanation. Lord Warden ignored it, more interested in the strong body revealed by the holes in the threadbare clothing.

"The penalty for stealing the lord's property is death," he said. "Throw him in the dungeon and I'll come down to deal with him tonight after supper. Let no one say the lord's justice is less than swift."

The peasant was dragged away, sobbing.

That evening, full of roast lamb and several pieces of the sweet melon retrieved from the thief's wheelbarrow, Lord Warden descended to his dungeon, accompanied by guardsmen Cuttle and Karch. His castle was on the small and simple side—his family wasn't given to ostentation—and the dungeon was only two rooms, each with three walls of stone and one of iron bars. One room was empty. The other held the peasant, who huddled in the corner. A manacle circled his ankle but he didn't seem inclined to try to escape.

"Get those filthy clothes off him," Lord Warden ordered Cuttle. The guard dropped the wooden block he was carrying, hauled the peasant to his feet, and tore his clothes away. Karch had brought down a bucket of hot coals, which he arranged on a brazier and blew to life. The peasant saw them and moaned. Karch ignored him, placing a wide, flat iron in the coals to heat.

"What's your name, fellow?" Lord Warden asked the naked man.

"B-Benson, my lord."

"Benson, what is the penalty for theft from my lands? Did you hear me say it?"

Benson hung his head. "Death," he whispered.

"That's right. But I'm feeling lenient today, so if you please me, you may only lose your hand." The man jerked his head up, hopeful but terrified. "Which hand do you use the most?"

"My right, my lord." 

"Then, because I am so very lenient, we will take the left. Cuttle."

Cuttle seized Benson's left arm and bent it over the wooden block. Lord Warden drew his sword. "Do you know what it means to die?" he asked Benson as he tapped the edge of the sword against the man's wrist, judging his swing. "Legally, that is."

"Ahh! I—yes—no—" The terrified man could hardly speak, his eyes fixed on the sharp steel of Lord Warden's blade.

"It means your body is no longer yours. Which is reasonable, if you're dead—you don't have any use for it, so someone else can bury it or burn it or do what they like." Lord Warden admired the peasant's muscular, naked body, enjoying seeing such a strong man reduced to a trembling wreck before him. "And since the penalty for theft is death, and you were clearly guilty of theft, I condemn you to die."

"My lord!" Benson began to weep. "You said—my hand—"

"Mm, yes, we'll get there. The legal formulas must be observed, you know. We're not barbarians." Lord Warden drew the tip of his sword across Benson's throat, leaving a tiny scratch. A moment later, blood welled up. "There, I've executed you. I declare you legally dead, and your body forfeit to me."

"Please, my lord, I—I don't understand!"

"That's fine, you're not required to. You're dead. Hold him, Cuttle." The guard tightened his grip on Benson's arm. With a single swift stroke, Lord Warden took Benson's left hand off at the wrist.

The peasant shrieked, and then again, louder, as Karch pressed the red-hot iron plate to the stump, cauterizing it. Smoke rose with the smell of frying meat. Cuttle let Benson fall to the floor, retching and wailing as he cradled his arm.

Lord Warden picked up the severed hand. Blood ran over his fingers. "Put him up against the wall," he said. The guards complied. Benson hung limp between them, half-conscious.

With his free hand, Lord Warden undid his belt and let his trousers fall. His cock sprang free, achingly hard. He rubbed the peasant's still-warm hand over himself, smiling as hot blood coated his skin and dripped onto the dirty straw covering the dungeon floor. He squeezed the hand like a sponge and more blood spurted out, splattering the man's naked buttocks. Satisfied, he dropped the hand, grabbed Benson's hips, and shoved his bloody cock into the peasant's unprepared ass.

Benson gasped hoarsely and staggered. The guards held him firmly as Lord Warden raped him, ignoring his garbled begging for help. Gradually his pleas trailed off into broken moans.

Fucking the peasant's ass was good, but not quite satisfying. Lord Warden felt his climax eluding him. He needed something more. He pulled out and looked around, considering. The hot iron? The sword again?

A thought struck him and he bent down and picked up the hand. Not yet stiff, it flopped limply, blood still draining from its stump. It was easy enough for him to push one of the hand's thick fingers into Benson's ass, then another. Benson began to scream again but Lord Warden ignored him, intent and excited. A third finger went in; a fourth. His cock was achingly hard. 

He wedged the tip of the thumb into Benson's overstretched asshole and then formed his own hand into a fist. Slowly and methodically, he began to punch the severed hand, gradually ramming it up into Benson's ass. 

Blood spattered everywhere. Some splashed on the lord's mouth and he licked his lips. The hot coppery taste inflamed his lust and he pounded harder, pressing his knuckles against the bloody wrist until it had vanished completely. Benson went quiet and sagged; he had fainted from the pain.

Lord Warden shoved his fist up into Benson's ass, driving the severed hand in deeper. Benson's body twitched and shuddered. At last, Lord Warden withdrew his fist and pushed his cock in where it had been.

More blood spurted out around him as he fucked the hand deeper into Benson's guts. He felt the little bumps of the hand's small bones rubbing over the head of his cock and it excited him as nothing ever had. Gasping and groaning, he finally spent his seed.

He stepped back and pulled up his trousers, not bothering to wipe himself off. There was blood all over him. He'd take a bath when he returned to his chambers. 

Bloody jism poured out of the unconscious man's torn and ravaged hole. The lord admired the sight in the flickering torchlight: the powerful body reduced to meat, the daring thief reminded of his proper place.

"What a miracle," he said to the guards. "It seems that this sturdy peasant has managed to survive his execution."

"Yes, my lord," Cuttle said. He lowered Benson to the floor. Karch was already loosening his own belt. 

"Tomorrow morning, escort him to his home," Lord Warden said. "Permit him to keep one of the melons, as a reminder of my generosity."

"Yes, my lord." Cuttle kicked Benson in the ribs and was rewarded with a muffled grunt. "Wake up, you." Cuttle preferred his men awake and screaming.

"I'll wake him up," Karch offered, reaching for his knife.

Lord Warden was tempted to stay and watch the guards have their fun, but he reluctantly pulled himself away and climbed the stairs, humming a little song as agonized shrieks and wet sounds echoed off the dungeon walls behind him. He was really looking forward to that bath.


End file.
